


Groceries

by thedas_scribe (wshall)



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F, F/M, Friendship, Recovery, argument
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 07:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9647093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wshall/pseuds/thedas_scribe
Summary: Marley Shepard is recovering from injuries sustained from the Reaper War.  Once again, James is charged as her primary contact, and out of convenience, has moved into her temporary housing to be of better service to his hero.  This is a snippet from that time in her life.





	

He wrestled the handles of all 12 biodegradable plastic bags around his arms, then headed to the door, an older model that required push-button access, rather than the easier kind that required little more than the swipe of an omni tool. After cursing several times for getting the numbers wrong, he finally got it right and walked in. Upon entering the house, James saw her standing at the kitchen sink, putting dishes in the dish washer. "What the hell are you doing up?"

She fired back as if she were prepared, with "I'm washing dishes, Lieutenant, what does it look like I'm doing?"

He stormed through the entryway and into the kitchen, chucking the bags on the counter, and then wrestled his arms around her waist and hoisted her over his shoulder.

"James!" She exclaimed, exhasperated.

"You're supposed to be lying down!" He dropped her on the couch in the living room and pinned her down by her shoulders, careful not to put too much weight on her since she was still healing. "Now stay here, let me take care of this stuff for you, okay? That's what I'm here for." He left her there and returned to the kitchen to put the groceries away.

"I have never..." she mumbled, then raised her voice, saying "James, I am not -- I am not..." her voice trailed off as she thought about what to say.

"Not what?" He inquired from the kitchen.

"I'm not so bad off that I can't take care of myself." Marley sat up and put her head in her hands, her words almost inaudible. The gravity of it all was that the things she saw, or thought she saw, was keeping her awake at night, she was staying medicated for different reasons and not just for pain, she was having nightmares, worrying about things that never happened but could have, and all she wanted to do was move. She wanted to be active, but was severely limited compared to before. Her leg was so weak that she had to use a cane. It was only temporary, and her collar bone had healed completely. Being idle was destroying her, though. Worse than having an alien species try to get into your head was giving them the space to do it, except the aliens in her head, now, were remnants of the events that happened over two months ago.

James walked through the dining room and sat down beside her. "We're soldiers. We're trained to kill. We're trained to protect those who trust us with their lives. We're trained to be like machines. We are also trained to dig in and bear with the times that try us." He looked over at her, still with head in hands. His response was gently putting his arm around her body, which was tiny compared to his, and waiting for her to sink into him, which she did. 

"I said that," she said. 

"Yes you did, and you know what else you said? You said that it's important to recognize your own value. Because nobody else can see what you're capable of. To be resourceful, even you have nothing, you gotta make something of it. Sure, that was during that drought test in Tuchanka, but it applies here." He felt her arm move across his chest and under his other arm. "So...I'm your resource, right now. You inspire me to be greater than I am. Let me take care of things while you get back to being the bad ass Shepard you already are, and when you're back up to speed, we can go pick up chicks together."

He sat with her for a little while as she thought about it. She smiled. "You can be my wingman."

"Or you can be mine." 

"You owe me, Vega. I get first pick. I do need to get laid."

James patted her on the back and went back into the kitchen. "That's the Hot Sauce I know."


End file.
